You've Got the Love
by conjure-at-your-own-risk
Summary: Harry has a small crisis regarding his sexuality when becoming someone's flatmate. He wouldn't be having this problem if he'd roomed with Neville instead. Partial Gender-Bend
1. The Dilemma of Engaged Friends

**AN: Here's a quick start to four or five chapters because of the holidays (happy early Hannukah!), and I really needed to write something more light-hearted. Can you believe I wrote this in one day? It really shows. **

**Inspired by several episodes of Scrubs, the 'What if MJ was a Dude' interview with Andrew Garfield, the fics that came from that, and that scene I wrote in And We'll be Chasing Stars. After this is done, I have plans for another short multi-chaptered fic with a Lady AU for Harry/Ginny.**

**Behold! Obliviously-Bi!Harry with Rule 63!Ginny (as I add my Queer Potter heacanons in this rom-com).**

**Title is a Florence and the Machine song.**

**Disclaimer**: I own copies of the Dresden Files, not the actual rights for Harry Potter or the origin of this trope.

**Title**: You've Got the Love: Chapter One: The Dilemma of Engaged Friends

**Word Count: **2K

**Summary**: Harry has a small crisis regarding his sexuality when becoming someone's flatmate. He wouldn't be having this problem if he'd roomed with Neville instead. Partial Gender-Bend

* * *

><p>"Harry, we love you," Ron said. "We really do, mate. Honest."<p>

Harry nodded. He had no clue where this conversation was heading.

"But there comes a time…" Ron faltered and looked to Hermione for help. His fiancée sighed and set her cup of tea down on the little table in their living room. She nodded. "What I'm trying to say is—bollocks. Hermione, I can't do it."

"Ron."

"I can't!" he insisted, making his tea slosh over the rim. Hermione's glare grew sterner. Ron bowed his head and groaned.

Harry pretended to be more interested in adding extra sugar in his cup. Ever since Hermione had moved in with them, things like extra sugar and certain teeth-rotting treats were becoming scarce in their small flat.

"Harry," Hermione said. Her voice wasn't as sweet as Ron's, but it was soft in the way that it was meant to be addressing bad news. "Have you ever thought about moving out?"

He knocked over the sugar bowl. "What?"

Ron scooted on the couch, his hand sliding into Hermione's. She raised their joined hands so that her engagement ring could sparkle perfectly in the light. Harry remembered being there when Ron had bought that ring. It was the first thing his friend had bought with his Auror salary. Harry was joking at that time on how she would prefer a rare manuscript than a piece of jewelry.

Now there seemed to be less laughter.

"Really?" Harry said. He squirmed in his chair. "Don't you want me to be a convenient source of help around here? After ten years of being best friends, you're kicking me out?" He purposely looked to Ron when saying this.

Ron squeezed Hermione's hand and the two shared one of those moments when they had an entire conversation with one glance into each other's eyes. "So, uh, I think Neville mentioned something the other day about needing a flatmate."

"I don't want to live with Neville," Harry said. "Why can't I just live here until the wedding or something?"

* * *

><p>"…and that's what happened," Harry explained to George an hour later. "Do you think I can stay with you?"<p>

George raised his head from the counter. He had dark circles under his eyes and there was an uncharacteristic beard growing on his chin. "No." He waved Verity away who made a face at the back of his head. "You don't want to live with me and Angie and the baby," he said gravely.

"But I'm his uncle Harry," said Harry. "And we're family and I don't want to live with Neville."

"What did Neville ever do to you?" George moved behind the counter and gestured a line to form in front of the other register. Harry followed him.

"I've been to his flat before," he said with a shudder. The flatwarming party had been disturbed with several of Neville's plants unintentionally breeding together, and making a venomous _something_ that ate the cake and some of the presents. Harry wasn't so eager on visiting since. Seemingly innocent plants that could gobble a three-layer cake were best avoided.

"Don't you have a girlfriend or someone to stay with?" George snapped his fingers in front of a customer's face. The teenage wizard was gawking at Harry much like one would at a zoo. "Eyes up here, or I'm charging extra."

Harry shoved his hands in his coat pockets, trying not to wander too long on his last romantic relationship with Daphne Greengrass. They'd gotten together not that long after he was given his Auror license. He'd been drawn to her because of her sharp wit and pretty dark eyes. Then, out of the blue, she had sat him down two years ago and said that he was great, but she felt that their relationship wasn't going anywhere.

He had been rooming (and brooding) with Ron since.

"Do you know anyone that needs a flatmate?" Harry asked.

"Well." George scratched his chin. "Because my social interactions have increased so much since Freddy's birth—" He threw his hands up in the air and waved them. "Oi, yes," he said to his line. "I know he's bloody Harry Potter, now move on!" Much like the original wizard in front, the small gathering of witches and wizards were keen on knowing Harry's crisis. He suspected that it would be in _Witch Weekly _tomorrow. It would possibly be titled as 'Desirable Bachelor Harry Potter Seeks New Best Friends and Living Conditions'.

"Can I have an autograph?" piped up one of the younger boys in the line. He escaped his mother's side and walked up to Harry. His mother bemoaned.

Harry had a policy regarding autographs about anyone under the Hogwart's acceptance age. Those were allowed, but anyone older he tried to decline for the sake of his sanity. And that the younger ones were generally nicer to talk to. They were less likely to be following the gossip talk or whatever the tabloids had to say about his lunch.

He knelt down and took the self-inking quill that the boy held out. "Sure. Who do I make it out to?"

"Harry," he said with a gap-toothed smile.

"Nice name," said Harry, inwardly groaning. He wondered how the roster was looking for Hogwarts. How many Harrys and Harriets were entering the next few years? "He signed the piece of parchment with a messy flourish. "I like your jersey."

The boy was wearing the Puddlemere colors with a familiar number on it. He smiled brightly. "I really, really like Quidditch but Mummy says—" He looked behind his shoulder and at his mother. "She says I can't fly on a real broom yet."

"You will once you get to Hogwarts." Harry did his best to be artistic and tried drawing a broomstick under his name. He gave up and made what was hopefully a quaffle. He handed it to the younger Harry.

Inspiration struck.

"Hey, George," Harry said slowly.

"Finally, can I start selling your action-figures?" he asked. For the past year George had been trying to get Harry to agree about selling a line of action-figures of him in his Auror robes. It was alarming to see how detailed they were and all of the 'special-effects'; like the weak Disarming Charm that it could do, and how it could sign things. Harry was bent on saying no up to his dying breath. They were disturbing miniature versions of him that were up to no good.

"What? No." Harry stood up and waved at the younger Harry who suddenly left the shop with his haggard mother. "When does Gid get back from Wales?"

Quidditch season was over, which meant that George and Ron's youngest brother was moving back to his flat full-time. His empty and spacious flat that was free from well meaning (and almost-married) friends and vicious, Harry-eating plants.

It was perfect! He and Gid knew already each other, they were both single, there was Quidditch to talk about; and Harry could always count on him to have a stash of chocolate lying around somewhere.

What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

><p>"Have I ever told you that you're my favorite Weasley?" was the first thing Harry said after he knocked on the door.<p>

Gid blinked and opened his door a bit wider. He pocketed his wand and gave Harry a weary but rueful grin. "Don't say that, I can almost hear Ron crying in the distance. He'll never forgive you, you know." He leaned against his doorframe with his ankles and arms crossed. "What bring me the honor of having you here?"

Harry could see more of the inside of the flat. There was a large duffle bag on the kitchen table and several stacks of clothes piled around it. "How was Wales?"

"Chilly and that's not the question you want to ask." Gid jerked his head. "Come on inside."

Harry let the door close behind him as he entered and surveyed the place. There were minimal changes since he had last said goodbye before the season started. The few houseplants looked a little wilted and there was some dust on the furniture. But there was a spare room that Harry knew existed next to Gid's and was connected with a shared bathroom. There was a perfect amount of living space for the both of them.

Surely Gid wouldn't mind…

Harry had known him for years now. Sure, Gid was somewhat awestruck when he was younger, always leaving the room when Harry had entered or unable to talk to his face. But a friendship had blossomed sometimes in Harry's Fifth Year and was the only one able to hammer some sense in his head. Then came Sixth Year, and Harry felt like their friendship had been growing stronger since. If Ron and Hermione were being unreasonable, there was always Gid to talk to. He was someone to share an unhealthy amount of love for Quidditch with, and a capable Seeker to play against. Harry honestly enjoyed his company and the laughter that often accompanied it.

"Is that how Aurors question people nowadays?" Gid handed Harry a chilled bottle of Butterbeer. "Sorry that I don't have anything else. Everything's a mess right now."

Harry's attention turned back to the wizard. Gideon 'Gid' Weasley took a lot from his brother, like their tall heights and wide shoulders that always made Harry feel like a midget. He had a shorter nose than Ron's, and his hair was longer in the front and shorter in the back. He was very freckly from staying outdoors so long, and often came to the Burrow smelling of broom polish and leather—although now he smelled more sweaty than anything else.

Harry twisted the cap off and went straight to the point. "Ron and Hermione thinks it's best if I move out before they get married."

Gid uncapped his own bottle. He appeared unfazed by this comment. Instead of coming to Harry's aid, he said: "It took them that long?"

"Prat." Harry jutted his chin and had to crane his neck to glare at him. Gid had always been the taller one. It was frustrating at times like this. "I'm your friend."

"And as your friend, I have the right to ask what were you thinking of living with everyone's favorite old married couple?"

"That's why I'm thinking of living with you, Gideon," said Harry right when Gid took a big swallow. It was timed perfectly.

Gid's drink spilled over his shirt. His brown eyes went very wide as he spluttered. "Wh-what?"

"Wow," Harry said, adopting Gid's earlier tone. "Are those the reflexes professional Quidditch players have nowadays?"

_"Me?"_ Gid sounded doubtful. He set his bottle down next to his duffle bag. "Don't you have other friends?"

Harry shrugged and casually sipped his Butterbeer. "Why not? It's not like you're going anywhere except the conditioning stuff."

Gid closed his eyes. "I'm flattered that you follow my schedule so well."

Harry clasped a hand over his heart, sighing deeply. "But I'm your _biggest_ fan."

"More like my most annoying." He opened both eyes and studied Harry carefully. A corner of his mouth tilted up. "When are you thinking of moving in?"

* * *

><p>Molly was ecstatic and Ron was frowning by the time they had told everyone that night at the Burrow.<p>

"My brother?" he said for the umpteenth time.

"Yeah, so?" Harry reached for some peas. He caught Gid laughing with Hermione and Molly about something. It was probably about him and his living habits. It wasn't that Harry thought he was a bad flatmate at times. He was mainly pesky about getting the dishes done and keeping things slightly tidy. He was sure that he was all right to live with. At least Ron had few complaints. That was all that mattered to him.

"He's my brother!"

"It's better than staying with Neville and his army of killer plants." Harry passed the basket of bread to Percy and went back to adding more food to his plate.

"More like bodyguards," Ron said with a grimace. "Remember what happened to Seamus during Valentine's Day?"

"They got the needles out eventually." Harry chewed thoughtfully on his chicken. "'sides, I like your brother."

Ron narrowed his eyes and looked at Harry and then to Gid who sat down near them. "What's your excuse?"

"Someone to remind me to do the laundry. Pass the peas, please." Gid smiled when he was handed food. "I think it can work. What do you say, Harry?"

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Molly said.

George, on the other hand, was feeding a giggling Freddy. "Hear that, baby?" he cooed. "Your uncle Harry doesn't want to live with you—_ouch."_

Angelina smiled pleasantly and readjusted her position in the chair. "You're just mad that he doesn't want you to sell those silly action-figures."

"When do you plan on moving?" Arthur asked.

"This Friday." Harry wiped his face with a napkin. "I don't have much to bring with me. Ron and I have shared custody over those muggle spy novels. Right, mate?"

But Ron was busying having one of those moments again with Hermione. They were staring into each other's eyes, and were maybe having a day's worth of conversations between them.

So Harry shared a conspiring smile with Gid behind Ron's back. It made him feel better.


	2. Keen Sting

**AN: FFN, WHY DO YOU CONTINUE TO IRK ME? It took forever to upload this chapter. Honestly, I was trying all morning. **

**Sorry for the delay! I had fun stuff to do, like recovering from finals and being overwhelmed by extended family members. It was somewhat disarming to see my more conservative relatives playing Cards Against Humanity. **

**Dear first Guest: In the summary and Author's Note, I specifically mentioned how there is a canon character's gender is different. In that case, it's Ginny because A) It's rarely Ginny and usually Harry and B) Why not? I have plans to try get more diverse with genders and sexualities in my writing, original and fanfiction.**

**On that note, thanks to everyone that's been reading this! The part at the end was partially inspired by the Veronica Mars binge-watching that I've been doing again. **

**Disclaimer: **I own copies of the Dresden Files, not the actual rights for Harry Potter or the origin of this trope.

**Title: **You've Got the Love: Chapter Two: Keen Sting

**Word Count: **3K

**Summary: **Harry has a small crisis regarding his sexuality when becoming someone's flatmate. He wouldn't be having this problem if he'd roomed with Neville instead. Partial Gender-Bend

* * *

><p>"Can I tell you what I love about being off-season?" Gid pulled his sweaty jersey over his head. "Less restrictions about food."<p>

"Your poor stomach." Harry's eyes flickered up and he got a good eyeful of what Professional Quidditch could do to a wizard's body. It wasn't like he was staring or anything, but he was…comparing. Aurors were built differently than Qudditch players, theirs chests and stomachs weren't as….toned. It made sense that Quidditch players needed to build up their core muscles so that they could do tricks, like flying their brooms without using their hands to steer. They needed that muscle while Aurors had more focus on their legs and arms from the constant arm-waving and running into danger.

Harry looked down at his own torso. Maybe he did choose the wrong profession? Then again, he had heard Gid complain enough about how exhausting that part of training was. Since Oliver Wood had joined Puddlemere years ago and was now their youngest captain of the decade, there were some changes for the team—like the exercises. Harry did not fondly recall them from his time on the school team.

"What I was saying," Gid said as he kicked his shoes off, and started walking to their bathroom. "After I take a shower, how about I make you dinner?"

"Don't do that. You'll only make me feel guilty, and then I'll want to make you dinner."

It was a constant request ever since Harry moved in two weeks ago. It was different than living with a loving couple, less need to be paranoid about Silencing Charms or wanting a glass of milk at two in the morning. There was more takeout and throwing popcorn kernels at the telly involved when living with Gid. So far they'd stayed up late for several nights talking enthusiastically about the upcoming season, been delivered a singing letter at work to buy some bread (and one sent back to buy more food), and was generally having a good time. Gid was able to take Harry's mind off the stress that the wedding was creating.

Up until now.

"Maybe that's my intention?" Gid opened the bathroom door, but looked back at Harry. "What are you doing there?"

"Um. The speech." Harry nervously tapped the tip of his quill against the wrinkled piece of parchment. There were balled up revisions on the couch and the floor. It wasn't a productive day that Harry was having. He wasn't sure how to get beyond the 'To my two dearest friends that kicked me out of their flat…'

"Tell that exasperating story about how long it took for them to get together?" Gid suggested.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I don't feel like unintentionally insulting anyone." He knew that Lavender Brown was attending the wedding with her girlfriend Pavarti, and he wasn't going to be responsible for any arguments between them or with Ron and Hermione. But Harry really didn't want to make Lavender out to be the bad guy because of what had happened in Sixth Year. Everyone had made some really bad mistakes back then.

"Heh." Gid twisted his jersey in his hands, thinking. "Turn it into a really romantic story? People will eat that up, or you know, something that'll make Mum cry with happiness."

"Is this what you've learned from those books?" teased Harry, watching Gid's face turn to an incredible shade of red. It was a well known and poorly hidden fact that the younger wizard enjoyed the series of romance books titled The Dear and Dashing. They were the kind of books that Hermione regularly scoffed for the lack of plot, but had also read in the past. They weren't just restricted to the Girls' Dormitories, and they were passed from hand-to-hand in all the Houses, and were often read under the covers at night to avoid ridicule.

They were of the usual stock: flimsy characters with few interesting traits, recycled plots, and the sort of romances that would make a blushing First Year's heart go to a stuttering stop. Harry might have read one in curiosity, but had chucked the dog-eared novel across the room when Ron had entered.

Gid also had a small collection under the floorboard of his bed back at the Burrow.

Enjoying this, Harry straightened his back and continued. "Come on, Weasley, teach me the fine tuned skills that you've gained from those books. Was it in _Cornelia's Charmed Courter? Dana's Doomed Desire—"_ Harry laughed as the jersey soared over his head. "Oh, was that your equivalent of giving me a flower? If so, yes. Yes, I'll be yours—" This time it was a sock that struck him squarely between the eyes. "Gross." He flung it away.

"I got another one and I'm not afraid to use it." Gid held his other sock up, his face still an embarrassing shade of red. "Keep that up, and you'll be writing this speech all by your lonesome."

It was tempting to ridicule him further, but Harry knew when to draw the line. He patted the spot next to him on the couch. "Come on, I need some help here."

Gid sat down next to him, legs stretched out resting on the coffee table that was in front of them. "Okay, what makes a good love story?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend's shirtlessness. "Flatmates that keep their clothing on?"

"Close. What's another thing?"

The dark-haired wizard rolled his eyes. "True Love's Kiss."

Gid snorted at Harry's ignorance of the topic. He readjusted his weight on the couch so that he was facing Harry. "Boy meets girl. They're at odds at first, but they eventually warm up to each other. Feelings start to grow and you think it'll be simple from there, but life happens."

"Are you writing any of these novels?" Harry nudged his leg. "And in this love story is what?"

"You have the classic: Miscommunication," Gid went on, speaking seriously. "And it's not like Ron and Hermione have ever done that."

The dark-haired wizard laughed. "What's next?"

"Action! Adventure! The story goes on as the two kids have their lives at a constant risk. Any day could be their last—so much to say with so little time! Then in a single moment, one of them realizes something…" Gid's earlier amusement sobered into something more sincere. There was something captivating about how he was telling the story. Harry had a hard time looking away.

"What's the realization?" he asked.

Gid was looking directly at Harry. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright with the storytelling. "That there's someone out there. You look a them like they're the sun, and it's their brilliance that amazes you. It's not that they complete you, but how they exist with you. You know they're the one. So, you make that sudden proclamation of love, and you finally do something about it…" He trailed off suddenly and blinked, breaking the spell. "Yeah, that."

Harry shoved the parchment in his direction. "I can't," he said. "You go write it."

"And let you take the credit?" He pushed the parchment back to Harry. "No way. It's your duty as the Best Man, and I still need to feed you."

Harry pursed his lips together. Gid's words were swirling in his mind. He was expecting Quidditch metaphors, but this was better. Ron and Hermione's romance was like that. They had started out a little rough with each other, but they came to a sense of understanding and they knew by that point how they could work together. Then came the disasters with miscommunication, the highlights being the Yule Ball and the fiasco during Sixth Year.

After that it was the war, and them finally having that kiss after destroying the Cup.

Now looking back, it was almost like being at the cinema. He could almost hear the music in the background rising into a crescendo as the fangs were dropped and Ron and Hermione were suddenly kissing. Every argument, every interaction had arrived to that singular moment where something could be okay when all hell has broken lose.

And officially making Harry a third wheel—but that sounded more petty that anything else.

But it was hard being best friends with two people that were madly in love with each. They had their own thing to do, dates and their eventual wedding, all the building blocks for living a life together.

It made Harry feel somewhat lonely.

It wasn't like Ron and Hermione had pushed him out if their life; they tried to include him, but it felt weird seeing them plan such a happy future while Harry was…just Harry. There was no 'Harry and—' There was only him surrounded by happy couples.

Gid stood up. "I should take that shower before you complain about the smell. And what do you want for dinner?"

"Don't worry." Harry ran a hand through his uncombed hair, feeling suddenly frustrated. "Yeah, we can make dinner together or something. You don't have to do anything."

"Harry." He looked up and saw Gid's sincere face. "Let me do something nice for you."

"You're putting up with me as a flatmate, isn't that enough?" Harry fiddled with the Self-Inking Quill, smearing his fingers with ink. "Either we make something together or we order takeout again, and I think the guys that run the Chinese place are getting tired of seeing our sorry faces."

Gid snorted something and walked to the shower.

Harry paused his thoughts and crumpled up the parchment into another wad. "You've ever felt that?" he asked.

The redhead stopped and turned around. "Felt what?"

"That all consuming love you were going on about," he sighed. He threw the wad up in the air and caught it.

Gid didn't answer for a moment. He shrugged. "Have you?"

Harry couldn't answer.

* * *

><p>The weird feeling more or less dissipated when they were cooking. The kitchenette was larger than what Ron and Hermione had, but it felt like that didn't stop them from banging into each other.<p>

Gid almost dropped his handful of olives when he tripped over Harry's foot. "If I would have known that we were making pizza…"

Harry looked over his shoulder and stuck his tongue out. "Well, if only someone had gone to the grocers." He ignored his friend's look of mock pain and sprinkled the counter with flour. He crooked two fingers but the rolling pin never came into his hand. "Aren't you hungry?"

Gid dumped some more possible toppings into another bowl and placed it next to Harry. "It depends on what kind of pizza we're making. I mean, I'm a purist but you…" Gid shook his head, sighing sadly. "Ron has corrupted you." He passed Harry the pizza dough and put some before him.

The bright side of moving out of the Burrow was the experience to branch out with more food. While Harry very much loved Molly's cooking and could live off it forever, he also enjoyed exploring and trying the Thai and Indian places near Ron and Hermione's flat. Ron had especially enjoyed being very creative with pizza toppings, and Hermione…was nowhere near as thrilled and was content with her small cheese pizza as Harry and Ron gorged themselves with pineapple and anchovies or whatever they could add to their heart's desire.

"You're a Weasley," Harry said. "You have to love everything that goes into your stomach."

"I like peppers and pepperoni on my lightly browned cheese. Not that." Gid waved a hand to the bowl of olives. "Or that. Is that eggplant?"

Harry flicked flour at his face. "Shoo, let me enjoy making this." Flour as thrown back at him. Harry scowled and turned around and got more in his face. He blinked and took his glasses off. "Was that necessary?"

"Very." Gid handed Harry a towel. "You poke me so I push you back, that's how I work."

"Is that why you don't go out much?" Harry rubbed his glasses on his shirt and put them back on his face. "You know, I can't even remember the last time I've seen you on a date." He swiped the rolling pin and started making his pizza.

Gid made a face while he sprinkled cheese over the tomato sauce of his pizza. "Ugh, you sound like Mum. Don't give me that look, I'm sure the two of you enjoy gossiping about my lack of a love life lately."

"If we ever get past the wedding arrangements first, then I'm sure that's next on the list."

"Why go there? Quidditch takes up my life."

"I've noticed," Harry drawled. "Being a chaser for Puddlemere must make it so hard to find a date."

Gid turned away from his pizza. "What makes you say that?"

Harry shrugged. "You never answered me about feeling some sort of passionate love, and, well, you're a passionate person. I was just thinking that since you have this free time now…"

Gid dropped his elbow on the counter and rested his chin on his upturned hand.

"Oh, the Chosen One, you're the Boy-Who-Lived who looks dead fit in his Auror robes. But wait, when was the last time he felt Cupid's keen sting?"

Harry flushed. "Dear Merlin, we've become lonely workaholics."

"Very observant," Gid said. He wiped the flour off his hands with his jeans, and went to go put his pizza in the oven. "You're such an amazing Auror, Harry. I'm sure that sharp intellect is what always catches those Death Eaters."

"And does your charming personality help you catch that quaffle?" retorted Harry.

"You call that a zinger?" He took Harry's pizza and put it in the oven with his. He closed the oven door. "You and your anchovy pizza disgust me."

Harry leaned against the counter and pulled his wand out, trying to remember the incantation that would help wipe down the kitchenette. There was a book that Molly had gifted Gid when he'd first moved in, but knowing him it was probably being used to help prop a table or used as a doorstopper. "Who was the last witch you've dated?"

A high color flushed Gid's face. He stood with his back stiff against the oven, wearing a flowery apron that was doing nothing to help him. "How about you?"

Harry quirked an eyebrow. He searched his thoughts and tried to think of a time when Gid had mentioned seeing anybody. Actually, was there anyone after Hogwarts? "It was Daphne. You know that and stop answering a question with a question, it's getting old."

There was a moment's pause.

"It was nice at first and had ended in a trainwreck," Gid said, obviously omitting more details. "I think I'm just going to focus on my career for now."

"I'm sorry," said Harry. He awkwardly patted his friend's arm, thinking back to when Daphne had ended thing abruptly with him and how much that had hurt. He wanted to say something truly consoling. He mentally went through the list of names, but had a hard time figuring out who would be a good fit. She would have to like Quidditch a lot, be able to endure a Weasley Christmas Dinner, a sense of humor… "I think any witch would be lucky to have you."

Gid gave him a funny sort of smile. "The same to you. I mean, even though you're sorta all short and specky and everything."

"Shut up."

"And you nag," Gid continued. "You put weird stuff on your pizza and you're finicky about picking Quidditch teams, and let's not get started on how your slurp your noodles. I had hoped Hermione had instilled manners in you ages ago."

Harry poked him in the chest. "You're too tall and you're just covered in freckles. And once you get started, you never shut up about Quidditch and you get all petty when things don't go your way. You also have this weird thing about talking back to the wireless, and you snore so loudly that I can hear you in my room—_and stop laughing!"_

Gid rocked on the balls of his feet, his forehead nearly touching Harry's. He could breathe in the scent of the woodsy shampoo from the recent shower and the yeast from cooking dinner. The red-haired wizard's brown eyes were bright and lively again, and Harry had to smile at seeing him like his actual self. Seeing Gid despondent was like seeing a snitch suddenly lose flight.

"Thanks," he said. "I needed that."

* * *

><p>"George, stop stealing all my beer."<p>

"Never!" George proclaimed. He stuck his head out of the fridge and dangled a bottle from his fingers. "Not my fault that you have the good stuff, little brother."

"Come on," Harry said. "We're here to talk about Ron's bachelor party and not commitpetty thievery."

"Can you arrest him?" Gid asked. His nudged Harry's knee with his. "Please be my big, strong Auror."

"George," said Charlie from a chair. He had a bottle of something cold and a list in front of him. "We're supposed to be thinking of ways to torture Ron. It's time to do your brotherly duty!"

That got his attention. George cheered and jumped over the couch, landing between Harry and Gid. "Here is it, boys. We have two more to go after this."

"Two?" said Harry.

"You and Gid, yeah."

Bill pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, let's not go that far. Harry, as Best Man, what are your plans so far?"

"Nothing," Harry admitted.

Gid swiped George's beer from his hands. "It's true. He's a hopeless Best Man. I don't recommend him for future weddings."

"Thanks."

There was a collection of groans from around the room. Harry had the rest of the Weasley sons sans Ron over to help plan the bachelor party. With his lack of a social life and little desire to go to clubs, he wasn't sure what to do exactly. Was a Canons theme a good idea? Should it be at the Hog's Head? Who would they invite? The more Harry thought about it, the more truthful Gid's joking words meant and how horrifying the idea was becoming.

What were Ron and Hermione thinking about making him the Best Man?

George clapped him on the back, making him jump. "But this is your chance! Imagine all the ways that you can humiliate them in front of their closest friends and family members! Think of all the gold that you have on them, think of how beautiful your speech will be!"

Gid opened his mouth to say that the speech was only half done, but Harry sneaked a hand behind George to pinch him.

He would think of something.

Eventually.

* * *

><p><em>...Harry twisted around and elbowed Gid who was lounging behind him on the couch, barely giving Harry any room to sit. "Stop it, you're distracting me. I need to finish this."<em>

_Gid made a displeased noise before kissing his neck again. "Just think—" And another one at his pulse point. "Of this—" Then at the spot below the ear. "As inspiration. One epic love story to another." Harry hummed happily as the kissing continued to go down his neck. He dropped the quill, thinking that he'll get back to the speech later. _

_"And here I thought you were trying to seduce me, Gideon." Harry laughed as his glasses were taken off his face. _

_"Me? Seduce my boyfriend? I have no idea what you're talking about." Gid leaned in closer. His face was entirely transparent; the emotions showing through were brighter than the sparks in his eyes. Harry felt a warm glow grow inside of him. "Okay, maybe a little." _

_"Keep it coming. I think I'll be needing more inspiration." Harry yanked on the front of Gid's shirt to kiss him…_

Harry almost fell out of his bed. His pillow slid out of his grasp, and his head hit the edge of the headboard as he stumbled back to wakefulness.

_What the..?_ he thought, the images crashing into the surface of his conscious. Now feeling very awake, Harry was painfully aware of the echoing sound of Gid snoring nearby. That was normal, right? Friends could have dreams of friends or something like that?

_I'm going back to sleep,_ Harry told himself. He picked up his fallen pillow and tried to get comfortable again. _And I'm going to dream about Quidditch._

Instead the next dream was about a certain Quidditch player.


End file.
